The portal spits you out in midair, in the dead of winter. Reeling from the effect of realm traveling, Drak struggles to regain altitude, but descends to the ground. Right before he crashes onto the snow, you realize you have been spit out near the Spine, or the town of Carvahall.
You squint and shake yourself off, "Owww, geez, why did you have to pick this realm? Instead of a cooler one like Pern, or LOTR maybe?" you gasp to your dragon. Drak arches to his feet in irritation, "well, we're already here, so I guess we should be looking for that dragonrider." Yeah, you just want to @#$! her!!
Hearing your thought, Drak grunts defiantly, the force of his breath knocking snow off some evergreens. Inadvertantly, some fell on you and froze you to the skin. "D-drak!! Why did you do that!!" you complain.
You shiver and breathe out a steam of vapor, "Geezus Christ, why did you have to be the dead of winter? Does Chris Paolini enjoy spiteing me?" you wonder. Drak moves over and warms you with ihs wings before responding, "I think that's just your paranoid opinion Gil" You shrug your wings outward, "yeah maybe you're right." As always.
Thinking no more of it, you reach into Drak's pouch and pull on a large coat, making sure your wings were covered. Dragon riders here didn't have that, and you secretly pityed them. But they could still speak telepathically, and use magic, so you had to watch yourself.
"You boy!! The one with the dragon!! How did you get here!!" yelled a scruffy, experienced voice.
Involuntarily, you twisted your body and aimed your rifle at his heart. "Get back or I'll shoot!!" you shout, Drak growling protectively. He had seen Drak; but after eyeing the interloper for a second, you recognized the person as...